Outside
by Everlane
Summary: Aang visits Azula after ten years.


**Outside**

* * *

I

Entering the cell almost made him forget why he decided to come to Crescent Island in the first place.

The healer guiding him cleared her throat, tossing an expectant glance in his direction. Aang placed his staff on the floor of the cell, his gaze fixated over the lone figure atop the edge of the cot in the corner of the room.

The small opening gave way to the thrashing seas and loud wind, along with the orange overcast on top of the sunken sun. She was wearing a white tunic with sleeves that covered the years long scars over her arms.

Her pants were wrinkled and thin, dirtied on the hems due to her daily strolls in the gardens. The healers told him that she often went into the gardens to sit near the flowers where she would write for hours. She made no attempt to flee the first time she asked to go, so each year, she was allowed to stay a bit longer.

Her dark hair hid the side of her face. From where he stood, the former princess of the Fire Nation almost resembled a statue.

"Azula, you have a visitor who's here to see you." the healer near him called out softly. Azula said nothing.

The healer nodded and turned to him. "Don't worry. It's been a while since anyone visited her."

"Thank you. I'll take it from here." he said.

He gave the healer a parting bow before she left the room. When the doors clicked shut, he let out a quiet sigh. He racked his mind for a rational explanation for what he just did.

Aang saw that it wouldn't help if he didn't talk, so he quietly walked to the chair opposite Azula.

"I know you remember me," he said. "You're wondering why I'm here, but I'm not sure I have an answer for you…"

There was no panic, but just an unavoidable truth. He didn't know why he came. He was alone in the Western Air Temple, and the pain of his isolation after Katara left him was so great that he just happened to think about Azula.

He came here because he felt sympathy, and he could tell that sympathy was the last thing this woman needed. He didn't know how long he stayed sitting, but when he was finally aware, he realized that there was no reason for him to come.

"I'm sorry if I didn't come under good circumstances." He said. "It's good that you're doing so well and I'm happy for you. You didn't need anyone to be better. You have a good evening."

As he held the door handle, he gave the woman one last look. She was still where she was, barely moving.

He noted the several changes she underwent. Her skin was no more a sickly hue, eyes no longer blank but thoughtful, and hair a dark tumble shined as pure silk would. The girl who chased him all over the world did not look anything like the woman in this room. With a bitter smile, he left the asylum.

. . .

He continued his visits for six more months staying at Crescent Island in the meantime. He would sit near Azula for a few hours without say anything. The healers slowly grew fonder of him, and he soon realized that it was because he kept on coming back to the asylum.

Sometimes he would simply watch her read to herself, refusing to address him. He waited for the tiniest falter over her face. But Azula was a blank slate, there was no expression other than her blinking.

Aang started to collect old scrolls from antique shops in the market square. He heard that Azula also liked to go to the gardens to read too. She read a lot, but did not have much books to read other than the medical transcripts and case studies the asylum had stored up in the records chambers.

Aang bought anything he felt she might like. He collected scrolls about history, war, and stories he dug up from the Western Air Temple.

Each time he visited Azula, he'd describe each book before he placed them next to her on the cot. He read the books because if gave him something to do. He would place a cup of water next to him while he read for hours, losing himself in the texts.

Sometimes he'd give himself a chance and try to see if Azula showed that she liked the story. A twitch of her brow, or her fingers. But nothing ever came up. There was only her, staring at the scrolls he held as she laid on her side.

. . .

The first time Azula spoke, her voice was barely audible. It was faint, like a feather floating in the still skies.

He stopped reading, waiting to hear the vague voice, but it didn't come again. The second time she spoke two days later, she said, "I thought the Air Nomads fought during the war."

"The Air Nomads couldn't have. They didn't have any weapons to defend themselves."

She frowned. "So they had no army?"

"No. Air Nomads didn't believe in violence."

He watched her frown deepened. "I see."

Aang returned to the scroll but was interrupted again.

"Can you get me more of those scrolls?"

"About the genocide?"

She nodded, her eyes wide and attentive. "Yes."

His chest tightened, watching the clear expression on the woman's face. Her eagerness to learn and the sincerity of it made him wonder where that other woman was. He was overwhelmed with so much joy that he read more books that night, continuing to read until she fell asleep.

* * *

II

Azula liked to ask questions and have her questions answered. If you did not respond with confidence, then she wouldn't process what you tell her. She would immediately find a way to dismiss what you're saying because it was obviously not valid information.

Aang would sometimes get nervous because whenever he told Azula of the tales before the war, she would listen so attentively, leaning over and fixating him with those clear eyes. They were always there to keep him straight, to remind him that she was watching him.

They were immediately close friends after she started speaking, though he was sure Azula would never admit it. He was simply her companion, someone who was there for her to talk to. They spoke nothing of what was going on outside of Crescent Island.

She was not interested in speaking about her mother or brother. At times, when Aang hinted at them, Azula was quick to evade mentioning their names.

If they did have to debate over the political issues outside of the asylum, then Azula would only refer to Zuko as 'the Firelord' and Katara was 'the Firelady'.

The gardens became their favorite place to converse and debate. Aang was a lover of peace, but Azula believed violence as necessary to restore balance in the world.

She ignited a spark in him that was long dead for two years, she pushed him to defend his opinions by deliberately cornering him with her sharp tongue. Her explanations were at most, surprisingly valid. When Azula reasoned and argued, she spoke with the voice of a leader whose emotions were detached from her rule.

Most times he felt that if Azula didn't have such close minded views, she would have been a magnificent Firelord.

He received a letter from Zuko demanding his presence at Capital City. Aang didn't know why he had to leave Crescent Island, but made sure he told Azula about his departure. She was sitting up over her bed when he entered her room, watching him as if he expected him to come.

"I have to leave to Capital City," he said.

"How come?"

"The Firelord wants me to have a meeting with him.'

He walked over to hand her the scroll, sitting cross legged on the floor near her knees as she read the letter. She placed a hand over his shoulder, her face unblinking with no trace of a smile.

"Have a safe journey."

. . .

When he arrived in the courtyard, his mind was riddled with those last words Azula gave to him. He could only think of the way the sun over the oceans outside lit the side of her face and hair, prompting her amber orbs to send out a glow. He could almost feel its warmth.

Not once did he think of the woman who left him three years ago to marry the most powerful man in the Fire Nation. When Katara came out of the palace to hug him tightly, there was no longer the ache of having to let her go. He smiled back when she did, kissing her forehead.

Zuko wasn't happy to see him. He waited for him at the end of the main corridors, almost resembling Ozai himself. Aang was led to the Royal Palace library in one of the small studies where Zuko took care of his paperwork by himself. The scent of the brewing jasmine leaves was what made him suspect that Zuko somehow knew that he was staying at Crescent Island.

When the Firelord served him his tea and sat on the other side of the table, he said, "I know you've been visiting my sister for some time now. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Is this why you asked me to come all the way to Capital City?" Aang asked.

"Yes. I want to remind you that the person you're dealing with is unstable and there is a reason she's still locked up in the asylum." Zuko said. "Listen to my advice, Aang. Stop visiting her, and I'll handle the rest from there."

Aang blinked confusedly. "I can't do that. I can't just stop seeing her."

"My sister didn't need to see you when she was living there for ten years. I'm sure you can find your way back to Ba Sing Se and not in Crescent Island."

"I'm sorry, Zuko." Aang said. "I'm not leaving her there to die alone."

Zuko sighed. "Aang, I know that I being with Katara had somehow made our relat-"

"What are you getting at? Are you saying that I'm using your sister to get to you? Is that what you're trying to tell me Zuko?"

When Zuko said nothing, Aang stormed out of the palace. He knew that it didn't matter when he said he was still going to visit Azula. Zuko would find a way to make this visit he was going to make his last. It was only up to Aang to make this visit worthwhile.

* * *

III

On a windy afternoon, Azula was waiting for him in the gardens. She sat on her knees, bare feet against soft soil. She wasn't reading, but tending a small shrub of burnt orange chrysanthemums near the pebbled pathway in the center. She worked mechanically, deeply focused on one particular flower.

He couldn't move any more. He didn't know if he could handle having to tell her that he couldn't visit her anymore. But it wasn't as if she even cared. Maybe she didn't really care that deeply for him. He was just there for her to talk to.

When the dark haired woman turned towards him, Aang wasn't sure he could ever stop visiting her. He came over to the asylum because he was alone and dying when Katara left him. But this woman was there to remind him that he wasn't alone. What kind of person would he be if he just left her when she could never leave him if she had a choice?

Azula watched him quietly and said, "Did the Firelord tell you to stop coming?"

"Yes."

She didn't look anymore disturbed than he did. But he moved up and sat cross legged by her, watching her pick up a kettle to pour water over the earth under the delicate flowers.

"I don't want to, but I know he will find a way to make me not come anymore."

Azula nodded. "It's alright. Letters are fine."

"No…he doesn't want us to see each other at all."

She paused, placing the kettle down. Aang was overwhelmed with this need to touch her hand. Her shoulders tensed, and she moved her body in a way that made him think that she wanted to say something. But Azula took the kettle again, got up, and left him near the chrysanthemums.

. . .

Two months later the winter arrived, and his hands were aching, covered in ink stains. He wrote daily from Ba Sing Se only for his letters to stay with him. Every night he had this urge to send one but couldn't push himself to do it.

Over time he felt angry with himself. Angry that it was so easy for him to stop visiting when she even insisted that they should exchange letters. He attended summits and other political events with a mask over his face. No one, not even Katara could break through his mask and see what was wrong.

One morning, a letter arrived.

The messenger hawk flew until he landed on Aang's shoulder. It stood still, waiting for him to remove the roll of parchment tied to his ankle.

Aang unrolled the parchment, reading the neat and perfect handwriting that was Azula's.

_Greetings, Aang. _

_I asked the Firelady for help. The Firelord agreed for me to write to you. I hope all is going well. The Firelady tells me that she sees you often. I make sure she sees you're doing well. I read all the scrolls you bought for me. I would like to have more of them if you don't mind. Do write back. _

_Yours Truly,_

_Azula. _

Aang didn't even finish the last sentence. He hurriedly wrote another letter in a tiny room. The hawk squawked indignantly when he grabbed his ankle to tie bundles of other letters around it. When the hawk flew off, dipping now and then in the skies, Aang could only let the wide smile on his face stay there as he slept peacefully that night.

. . .

Azula waited everyday on her bed for a letter.

The healers were concerned that she wasn't going to the gardens to read as she usually did. But they left her to her own turbulent thoughts. She would sometimes watch the sun go down before she was forced to go to sleep, thinking about a tall man with a gentle smile who never looked at her like one would look at a wild animal.

When Tum Tom arrived with the tiny bundles of rolled up parchment on his ankle, the healer who took the letters rushed to Azula's cell. "It's here! The letters are here!"

Azula snatched it from the girl's hand, golden eyes scanning the parchment. She read each and every single word on all the letters, curled up in the corner of her bed. Even when the sun set, she still read, hoping that perhaps she could see Aang one day outside of these walls.

* * *

**End Note** - Still working on _Kaleidoscopes._ Honestly, I feel like I need to start the story over again for some reason. But no worries, I'm still working on it because I'm sure some are waiting for an update. Either way, hope you like.


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